


regular customer

by pocketpauling



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: M/M, Multi, bakery au for the fuck of it, bc im gay?, i still dont know how to tag anything., just...... gordon happy with his life moments, let gordon own a bakery. hes gay, minimal to no angst planned!!, teen 4 the swears ofc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketpauling/pseuds/pocketpauling
Summary: fuck black mesa. gordon owns a bakery, tommy & benry just rly like the lil pastries he sells. and also, uh, him. because i have to make everything frenmy or else ill die.planned abt 5 chapters but might go longer if i end up losing my mind. thanks *bless*
Relationships: Benry/Tommy (HLVRAI), Gordon/Benry (HLVRAI), Gordon/Benry/Tommy (HLVRAI), Gordon/Tommy (HLVRAI)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 312





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArchaicNightfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchaicNightfall/gifts).



Laidlaw was, in hindsight, not the _best_ place to settle down. Sure, it had it’s perks - cozy downtown, progressive leadership, well funded schools, a nearly completely defunded police force, but… well. It was still a small New Mexico town, out in the middle of nowhere. There was only so much you could do. 

The town was, also, kind of a dead-end place to start a business, but Gordon hadn’t really had the ability to leave town after he quit his last job (fuck Black Mesa, fuck their layoffs and their union-busting bullshit). Joshua had _just_ started 3rd grade. He had _friends_. Gordon couldn’t - he _wouldn’t_ take that from him. That wasn’t fair.

So all the money he’d been saving up to move back home became… an investment. He planned for ages, sent Joshua off to school every morning just to sit down at his desk and pore over spreadsheets for hours on end, making sure everything was just right, everything was perfect, everything would be _fine_. 

Months and a bank loan later, he had his own bakery.

Which, to most of his friends and neighbors, was so out of left field it left them _speechless_. Gordon was a scientist, not a - not a _baker_. But, truly, Gordon had only really been interested in science as a hobby - it was something he was really good at, but was so tiring, so forced to focus on _all_ the time. Working at Black Mesa had really taken a lot of his love of it and broken it. He hadn’t wanted to make it a career, really. Hadn’t wanted to spend so much money and time in an isolating university. So, he wanted to take a break. Do something else. See if that works out better.

So, the building was downtown. Small, two floors. He was renting both of them for a crazy reduced rate - he’d just… they’d move in to the second floor, and, even if it was smaller, it would be so much more convenient. Joshua would stay in the same school, and Gordon could finally do something he’d wanted to do since he was a kid. Bake fucking bread.

* * *

Gordon bakes a _lot_ of bread. Like… every single day. A lot of it. People buy a lot of bread from him, restaurants in the area have started making bulk orders, so it’s justified, but, well. You know. Wake up early. On that grind. Get that bread.

He does wake up at 5 AM every day, though. Falls asleep at midnight. Gets those 5 hours of sleep if he’s _lucky._ But, God, if he doesn’t feel better than he has in years. Black Mesa’s schedule was so much looser, let him get his full 8 hours, but he feels like he’s actually well rested when he wakes up in the mornings now. Back then, it was so hard. Hard to justify getting in the car and driving an hour away for a job where people berate you for no reason, put their employees in dangerous positions, and cut pay like nobody’s business. Hard to justify crawling out of bed. Hard to explain to his son why he was so busy, too busy.

He is _so_ glad he was laid off. Not… all days, he’s not always happy, but sometimes it’s a blessing. Black Mesa was toxic. Unhealthy.

Speaking of Black Mesa, actually.

The same guy - lab coat, Black Mesa name tag hastily pinned, crooked, to his front pocket, service dog at his side - stood outside the doors, every single weekday, every morning, at the same time. Waiting for Gordon to open at 8. Been doing it for months, now.

Tommy was his name. His name tag read Tommy Coolatta. So, Gordon addressed him that way, asked him about how Black Mesa was, listened to him stutter his way through pleasantries and small talk. Every day, he’d hand over the same order of 3 chocolate croissants and they’d wave to each other. Tommy would go to work at the same awful place Gordon had just escaped from. Not that it was his business, but Tommy looked _so_ tired. The same tired that Gordon had been, about a year ago. He’d said that the next time, telling him he used to work there, too. He recognized the exhaustion.

Tommy had looked shocked, almost. No, definitely fully shocked. Gordon gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

His thoughts still hadn’t collected, but he tried to say them regardless. “But - you, uh… you’re…”

Gordon just smiled over the counter at him, putting his usual order in a paper bag, before he’d even had the opportunity to ask for them. “Yeah?”

“You’re a… uh, a baker?”

“I have a PhD in theoretical physics.”

“Oh,” Tommy laughs sheepishly, hint of an embarrassed blush on his face, “Sorry, I… uh, I didn’t really - I wasn’t trying to imply you weren't, uh, smart.”

It was cute, in the same way that, like… like, puppies were cute? That Tommy’s service dog, Sunkist, was cute. Not that Gordon was particularly _repressed_ when it came to feelings about guys, it’s just. Random people. Customers. Can’t be weird about them, that’s wrong. Made him feel guilty.

Well, that was enough processing that. Back to work. “It’s fine, Tommy, just - card, right?”

“Huh? I haven’t, I didn’t pick anything out yet?”

“You always get the same thing.”

“Oh. Okay, uh - yeah, card.” 

Tommy paid, then left. Same as every weekday. Waved at him while he walked out the front door, almost bumping into other early rising customers on his way out.

* * *

The day after was Saturday, so - no Tommy, probably. Not that he was really looking forward to chatting with him, not any more than with any _other_ regular customer, but… Saturday mornings were slow without him hanging around for a few more minutes than necessary, talking too much about some top-secret government project. Or, uh, his perfect dog. Some things that didn’t really matter much to Gordon, but were nice to listen to, regardless. It was nice to hear how enthusiastic he was about what he did. 

Slow afternoon, too. Uncharacteristically slow. 

He was almost nodding off at the counter when someone pushed the door open, little bell above the door ringing softly. 

Okay, he might have been a little hopeful that it was Tommy, finally coming in on a weekend and wanting to chat without fear of running late. But, no, the universe would not be so kind - just some random guy he’d never seen, some short guy in a blue hoodie. Sans Undertale game theory looking motherfucker. 

Since the guy seemed content to just wander around and look at everything, Gordon’d decided to busy himself with cleaning up the area around the register, and - 

He was right there. He was right there, leaning over the counter, right in front of Gordon.

Gordon had to fight the urge to throw something at him, nearly falling backwards out of pure shock. Holy shit, this dude was _just_ on the other side of the store. “Jesus - can I help you?”

The guy had his eyes locked at the pastries in the display case. “Is this the cringe bakery where Tommy gets his fail croissants from?”

“ _What?_ ”

His eyes flick up to meet Gordon’s when he asks that - well, it’s not really a question. It was more of a reaction to how fucking ridiculous the thing he just said was. The guy didn’t smile, didn’t even really react. Just echoed the confusion back to him, apathetic, “Huh?”

Customers were weird. He knew that. That was a fact of dealing with people who buy things from establishments, people who come from all walks of life, even the really wild ones. Gordon had dealt with weird customers before, he knew how to just tune them out if they made him really uncomfortable. Just… smile and nod and take their money. He could do that. Even if this guy was kind of freaky, he could. 

“Listen, uh - we have croissants, sure. How many do you want?”

He’s still laser focused on the chocolate croissants in the case. “You got a permit? For bakery? Baking? A permit?”

“How - _what_ are you _talking_ about?”

“Tommy won’t shut up about this place. You sell bread?”

He had… _just_ been looking at the bread. He walked right by it, looked right at it. Did he not... pay attention? To the bread he was just looking at? Was this guy _okay_?

“...yes? I - yes, we sell… yes. It’s on the rack behind you.”

“Oh, dunk,” the stranger mumbled, pulling himself away from the display, turning and picking a random loaf of bread off the bread rack, “Do these have gluten?”

Does it have gluten? Did he just ask if - if regular bread has _gluten_ in it? This guy just asked that. This dude just asked that question.

He actually had to take a second to answer, because now even _he_ wasn't sure if it had gluten. But, yeah, sure enough, it did. “Yes? That’s just... regular white bread, it has gluten in it.“

Weirdo stranger man puts the bag of bread up on the counter, not even trying to be careful with it, since, you know, it's fucking _bread_ , and starts searching his pockets for his wallet while Gordon rings him up.

“I’ll just take your, uh, your terrible racism bread. Yeah.”

Whatever, that makes just as much sense as anything else this dude's said so far. Gordon puts the bread in a paper bag for him, even though… honestly, it’s a bit of a waste. Even if the bags he uses aren’t those shitty wax-covered ones. Still feels bad. “Okay? Uh, that’ll be $6.50, so - “

He shoves a ten dollar bill across the counter, takes his bag, and leaves.

Gordon has never been so confused by a single person in his entire life, and he has an 8-year-old son.


	2. animal crossing bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh no! flirting plans

Before Gordon knows it, it’s Saturday again. Late morning, usually slow, same as always. He’s… he knows he should stop showing up on the weekends. He’s got employees, three whole employees - close _friends_ \- that he trusts to run the store just _fine_ , but he’s always been a hands-on kinda guy. Not being there at least part of the day doesn’t sit right with him, no matter how often they tell him to take the day off.

To be fair, he _did_ try it, early on. But the anxiety of it was too much. So he just dips out around 2 PM, and closes every night. It is basically his home, after all. He doesn’t feel overworked, yet. Maybe someday he will.

There’s not even anyone in the store, so he’s letting Joshua run around and pick out what he’d like for lunch today, which is almost always the same thing. Wants cowboys. Where’s cowboys?

It was to the point where Gordon had literally ‘created’ a type of muffin just for him - Cowboys, which was just a rocky road muffin with a different name. Joshua didn’t care, though. Ate his lil’ ziplock bag of cashews and the muffin and his bologna sandwich in the corner with all his toys, and was perfectly happy.

He’s not really expecting the door chime to jingle, signalling someone walking into the store. He can’t say he’s ever really _expected_ customers, since, you know, he didn’t think this would really work out in the first place. But there’s customers, regardless.

Gordon is very much not expecting it to be Tommy and - uh, that other guy. Hand in hand, Tommy pulling his - his _boyfriend,_ probably? - through the door with him. They’re either dating, or they’re _really_ comfortable in their friendship. Which, uh, it’s not Gordon’s place to assume either of those things. So he doesn’t.

Tommy’s waving at him almost immediately, but his _friend_ is focused on getting a basket from beside the door. New additions, since some people like to come in and buy 6 loaves at once. Makes it easier.

The taller of the two is… this is the first time Gordon’s seen him outside of work clothes, actually. Even in this small town, he’s never seen him outside of the bakery. That - that’s weird, right? He finds that weird. Tommy doesn’t seem like a shut-in. He’s dressed in bright colors, like a movie theater carpet, and it’s - it’s so much more fitting than the lab coat, Gordon thinks. He looks a lot better, a lot less exhausted now. 

Oh. Oh, Tommy’s talking. Fuck. What?

“ - and Benry said he came in by himself, which, uh, is kinda unlike him, so - I’m glad he likes the stuff you make! We both love, like, everything here.”

Benry. Okay. Benry’s his name. Jot that down.

Gordon’s brain plays catch-up while his mouth moves on without him, “You’re - you don’t come in here on weekends, what’s up?”

“Mr. Freeman, I come in here _every_ weekend. It’s just… usually in the afternoon, when you’re not working.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Nice to see you when you’re not running to work.”

“Yeah, it’s - it’s work. It’s… uh, it’s work.”

“I know what you mean.”

Whatever response Tommy’s thought of, it’s cut off by Benry’s shouting from the bread wall, maybe 20 feet away, “ - HEY, WHERE’S THE RYE?”

Joshua is by the bread wall, too, but he’s scooping up his toys and hiding them behind the shelving. Gordon’s not _too_ worried - Josh does this when there’s loud customers, or, like, _any_ customers. It’s something he’s kind of accepted about his kid. A little bit of anxiety over shouting isn’t hurting anyone, but maybe he _should_ get out more. Maybe they both should get out more.

“We don’t stock rye every day. There’s a schedule on the wall, right beside you.” Gordon points to the schedule, which, sure enough, says rye is only available twice a week. 

“Oh, cool,” is Benry’s reply, and he doesn’t sound particularly happy. But he has to deal with it the way everyone does, since Gordon doesn’t have the time _or_ the oven space to bake _every_ kind of bread every day. 

There’s silence in the store, and then Benry chirps out a happy little, “Hey, buddy.” And Joshua screams.

* * *

It wasn’t anything serious, of course. Joshua just - well, the way he explained it was confusing and long winded, but he’d thought Benry was a vampire.

Now that Gordon looked at him, he could see it. Pale, sickly skin. Hood up in the sun. His canines are _sharp_. But he eats chocolate croissants, and he tipped Gordon about 55% on a loaf of bread that one time. 

He’s had to temporarily bring out the ‘Will return at:’ sign to deal with the Joshua problem, so he could sit on the floor and hold him as he babbles, terrified of being eaten by this scary guy.

The hurt on Benry’s face at the insult is short lived, replaced almost immediately by confused amusement. That’s what Gordon assumes it is, at least - it’s hard to stay mad at a kid for that kinda thing.

“He’s not a vampire, Joshie, he’s just _pale_ ,” Gordon’s laughing, because it’s _funny_ , but Josh doesn’t find it funny. He’s trying to climb under Gordon’s shirt, now, to escape the gaze of a scary vampire man and his accomplice.

Tommy’s trying to fight the urge to crouch down to talk to Josh, and Gordon can tell. He eventually gives in, and joins Gordon on the floor, trying to find _something_ to make Josh believe Benry is just a normal guy. “He doesn’t get a lot of, uh, sun. Curse of being a gamer, staying inside all day playing Animal Crossing.”

Joshua perks up at the mention of it, eyes glancing between his own Switch in the corner, and Benry, who’s looking like he’s the most nervous he’s ever been. “... you play Animal Crossing?”

Benry takes a moment to process that he’s being talked to, but after a few seconds he nods and smiles softly, happy to have something to respond to. “Yeah - I, uh - I got a cool island. Got all the fossils.”

“See? Vampires don’t play Animal Crossing.” Gordon lets Josh go when he starts trying to wiggle his way out of his arms to grab his game, chatting about his villagers to Benry, and Benry is chatting right back about some new update, some glitch, something. Gordon doesn’t play the game enough to know.

He is so, so glad that they’re playing along with this, sticking around to help with calming Josh down. Even if it’s annoying, it’s nice of them. He idly wonders, if they’re together, do they have a kid? They seem like they’d be good with kids. World needs more good parents.

Hm. That’s not really his business.

Tommy’s smiling fondly at his, uh, his _something_. Gordon still can’t assume anything, but the way he’s looking at Benry is kinda telling. He’s not going to ask, even if he is incredibly curious. He’s going to be curious about it every time he sees them from now on, probably. He’s always been nosy like that.

Gordon has a business to run, though, so he takes the payment for the three loaves of bread Tommy’s buying, assures Josh that his new friend will be back soon, and waves them off.

* * *

Sunday brunch comes, and Benry is making french toast.

Tommy’s on the couch, half paying attention to the news, and half listening to Benry’s one-sided conversation from the kitchen - and it’s about that bakery guy. They’re always talking about that bakery guy these days, always talking about when they're going in next.

Not that either of them are complaining. The guy can _bake_. Like, they _know_ it's a lot of machinery at this point, but Gordon's recipes must be absolutely perfect, because _damn_.

“ - we could wife him, Tommy. We could have bread for free. We can get this bread for free.”

Tommy snorts - Benry’s never been this forward with it before, but he’s been talking about it for a while. He turns down the TV completely, and turns his full attention to what Benry’s saying. He sure is saying something, huh?

Benry’s waiting for some kind of response, probably, so Tommy just sighs, “Benry. We can’t.”

“We could! Propose to him. Bring him home. Let’s fucking go! Let’s get this bread, Tommy.”

Oh. Uh oh. He’s kinda serious about this. “Oh my God, do - do you have a filter? At all?”

“Tommy… free bread…”

He thinks about it for a moment. That’s… well, they _could_ flirt with him, see where he stands. Polycule moments, or whatever Benry said yesterday after they got home. They could figure it out. But if they’re shot down, Tommy won’t get his pastries ever again… pros and cons need to be weighed here.

“Yeah. But also, like, uh, that's a mean thing to do to a person. Use them for their extremely good baking skills.”

“Free bread.”

Tommy sighs again, knowing he’s going to lose this fight. “True. Free bread.”

Benry waves him in for a plate of what might be the best-looking french toast he’s ever seen. Instagram quality. And Benry _is_ taking pictures, mostly to gloat about it to Dr. Coomer and Bubby. They always get jealous over good breakfast foods.

“ _And_ he’s cute. Win-win.”

“He - he isn’t even that good looking. He’s, uh - “

“Tommy. The man is, like, DILF personified. Please. He’s _literally_ both of our types.”

“He’s probably not even, uh - not even gay. He has a kid, he’s probably - “

“Just ask!” Benry presses a quick kiss to Tommy’s cheek, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach him. “You talk to him every single day, bro. Just ask him. Try and spot that ring. All the single ladies or something, I don’t know, I’ve never listened to it.”

“There’s… there’s no way you haven’t listened to the hit song Single Ladies by Beyonce. I - there’s no way.”

Benry barks out a laugh and tries to shove a whole slice in his mouth at the same time. It’s disgusting. And endearing. “Thomas, you’ve never been to Taco Bell. You can’t lecture me on this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm gay people. i said this would be longer but it isnt. oh well. <3 <3 bakery au no fighting allowed

**Author's Note:**

> im a gay person. thinking abt baking. yall know starting is the hardest part of a fic so next chapter will be longer. i like softer aus too sometimes. where gordon is happy and healthy and chill


End file.
